


A Memory

by RunRabbitRun



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunRabbitRun/pseuds/RunRabbitRun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Dwalin helps Thorin babysit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another kinkless kink meme fill! For the prompt: ["Dis goes out for the evening and Thorin is left in charge of his Nephews when they're in toddler age or either really young. Bonus point if Thorin has never watched the two boys on his own yet at all before, que trying them to get into bed, eating more then they should staying up late, telling them a bedtime story (bonus point again if he tells the story of Smaug for the first time) and all, whatever the writer can think off!"](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=438462)
> 
> It's less 'Adventures in Babysitting' and more 'Dwalin's weird, gruff dude storytime' than I intended, but oh well.

"Lord Thorin?" said the Silversmith, pausing in her work to think. "He hasn't been down here for nigh on a week."

Dwalin frowned. What could keep Thorin from his own forge for so long?

"Where is he then?" He asked.

"Last I heard he was at the house of the Lady Dís, his sister. What his business there is I can't say."

Dwalin nodded his thanks and turned to leave.

"Oh, Warrior?" The lady called. "If you're looking for a place to stay I wouldn't say no to some company." She gave her pliers an expert twirl and turned her face so that the light from the forge shone on her lovely, curling sideburns. Dwalin smiled.

"I would, my lady, but I have an appointment I must keep."

With a dramatic sigh the Silversmith waved him away and went back to her work. Dwalin made a note to visit Thorin's forge more often. The little place had grown in the three years he'd been away. The Dwarves of Erebor flourished in the Blue Mountains, even if they were reduced to working in lesser metals and coal rather than gold and diamonds. They continued to spread both north and south along the range, and Thorin had tasked Dwalin and a few others to secure the northern settlements. Thorin had wanted to go with them, but Balin advised the Lord to stay in their main town and govern his people from there. Thorin had reluctantly agreed. Now, finally returned from his work, Dwalin had no greater wish than to see the dwarf that was both his distant cousin and his closest friend. 

Thorin’s forge was not far from the Dís's home, and Dwalin smiled as he found his feet automatically followed the old familiar paths. After a short walk he let found himself in front of Dís front door. He knocked twice and then let himself in. He hadn't gone two steps into the entryway when he heard Thorin's voice holler:

"Dwalin! GRAB HIM!"

Just then something small and very quick streaked by Dwalin, heading for the front door. But Dwalin was a seasoned warrior and knew how to move without thought and he snatched up the small, fast something.

And that's how he found himself with an armful of very wet, very naked Dwarf toddler.

Dwalin had little experience with children, and so frowned at the wriggling creature, unsure of what to do with it. It was a dark haired little (Dwalin spared a glance downward) boy, perhaps two or three years old. The boy laughed maniacally and kicked his legs in the air. Dwalin grasped the child under his arms and carefully held him as far away from himself as possible.

"Who are you supposed to be, little badger?" he said, turning the child this way and that, as if he might have a maker's mark stamped on him somewhere.

"PUTMEDOWN!" The boy shrieked, waving his fists around. 

"Dwalin, thank Mahal, you caught him." Dwalin looked up to see Thorin Oakenshield rounding the corner into the entryway. The dwarf king, dressed in his shirtsleeves, was soaking wet and held a wildly struggling creature under one arm. 

"FEE!" The little dark-haired boy yelled.

"KEE!" Thorin's burden called back.

"Thorin, what under the earth-" Dwalin started, but Thorin interrupted.

"No time for that now, hurry! Follow me!"

Dwalin had no idea what the hell was going on but he tucked the now giggling boy under one arm and ran after Thorin. From behind, Dwalin could now see that Thorin was carrying yet another child, this one blond and dressed only in his underclothes. He too was dripping wet.

Thorin led Dwalin deeper into the house and then finally into the washroom. Dwalin gaped: it was a disaster area. The stone-tiled floor was covered in a half-inch of water, and there were children's clothes and various bathing instruments flung everywhere. Thorin skidded to a halt in front of the half-full washtub and motioned frantically for Dwalin to follow.

"Quick, drop him in." He said.

"What?" Dwalin barked.

"NOOO!" The dark-haired boy howled.

"Dwalin, now!" Thorin said, a note of desperation coloring his voice. Dwalin muttered an oath that got both boys giggling and dunked the boy in the soapy water of the tub. The little brat immediately tried to climb back out but Dwalin caught him under the arms again and held him fast. He turned to look incredulously at Thorin, who was now kneeling and madly stripping the little blond boy of his underclothes before wrestling him into the tub. When he turned back he got a face full of warm water flung by the now happily splashing children.

His beard dripping and his ire rising, Dwalin glared hard at Thorin. 

"Explain."

Thorin sighed heavily.

"Dwalin, I'd like you to meet my nephews, Fíli and Kíli."

"KEE!" Dwalin's charge cried happily, splashing with his little feet.

“Fíli, Kíli, this is my friend Dwalin, son of Fundin. He's a cousin of ours.” Thorin said slowly.

“Hello!” Fíli said. Kíli tried pronouncing Dwalin’s name a few times before giving up and turning his attention to the myriad of wooden toys floating in the bath water.

Dwalin looked from boy to boy. Fíli, now placidly scooting a toy duck across the water, had been much smaller the last time Dwalin had seen him, and this Kíli was entirely new. Had so much happened in just three years?

"Well, that one's certainly grown," he said, nodding at Fíli.

"I'm seven!" He said proudly.

"Fee, gimme duck," Kíli said, speaking quietly for once. Fíli graciously handed the toy over and took up a little boat instead. With the children distracted for a moment, Dwalin looked over at Thorin who now leaned over with his head again the rim of the tub, the very image of a man overwhelmed. 

Dwalin burst out laughing.

"Shut up," growled Thorin. 

"Oh, of course, Great Nursemaid Under the Mountain," Dwalin got out through his guffaws. The boys apparently found Dwalin's laughter funny, for they both started giggling away again. Thorin groaned. 

"Dís will owe me a very great favor for this," he ground out.

"Where is her ladyship, then?" Dwalin asked, wiping his tears of mirth.

"Dís is down south visiting family," Thorin said, starting to rub soap into Fíli's hair. Fíli wrinkled his nose and looked like he was making to bolt, but a glare from Dwalin quieted him right away. 

"And she left you with the little ones, eh?"

"Aye, that she did. Fíli, close your eyes and dunk your hair, there's a good lad." 

"And why isn't their father doing this?" Dwalin asked, allowing Kíli to pile a number of wooden toys into his cupped hands. At this question, Fíli went very still. Kíli continued selecting toys to hand to Dwalin without a care under the earth, but Fíli's mood had palpably changed.

"Later, Dwalin," Thorin muttered. "Fíli," he continued brightly "You're finished." Standing up, he lifted Fíli up out of the tub and set him carefully on the wet floor. The only towels in the washroom were all dampened by the boys' splashing but Thorin selected one and draped it around Fíli's shoulders. "There are dry towels in your room. Go dry off. Quickly now, your mother will have my beard if you catch cold. Then you can go down to the kitchen and ask Cook for a biscuit." The boy brightened at the mention of biscuits and scampered off.

"I wanna biscuit!" said Kíli, frowning. 

"And you shall have one if you are a good lad and let me wash your hair. Deal?" Thorin said reasonably.

"Awight," Kíli grumbled, and submitted to having his wild dark hair washed. Unlike Fíli, Kíli was not allowed out of Thorin's sight, and Dwalin found himself wandering after Thorin as his Lord carried the dripping boy to another room (the lads' own bedroom by the look of it). Dwalin knew next to nothing about children, but he was rather impressed by Thorin's apparent skill with the boys. Barring the incident at the front door, Thorin held a stern yet gentle kind of authority over the children, and Dwalin was surprised to remember that this was the same dwarf that charged Khazad-dûm not so very long ago. 

"You're very good with them," he said, after Thorin had put the boys down for a nap. 

"I've had practice," Thorin said, cracking his neck. "Honir, Maker rest him, was killed in a tunnel collapse not long before Kíli was born. A little more than two years ago now. So..." He gestured vaguely at himself and the boys’ closed bedroom door.

"Dís needed a man around, eh?" Dwalin pressed a fist to his heart to show commiseration in Thorin and Dís's hardships. It had been no secret that Thorin and Honir never got along, but Dís loved her husband dearly (thus their two sons, born so close together) and the loss of a spouse was nothing to joke about. 

"Aye. The lads needed a father, or an Uncle in this case. It was... Difficult for Fíli at first."

Dwalin nodded solemnly, remembering how the rambunctious child had grown silent at the mention of his late father.

"Have they no nursemaid?" He asked.

"None to be found," Thorin shrugged. Dwalin nodded. It was a rare dwarf-woman who would consent to raising children not her own, especially in these times. 

Suddenly a piercing shriek rent the air and in a split second Thorin was off again. Battle instincts flaring, Dwalin ran after him. Thorin flung open the boys’ door and leapt through.

"What's wrong, what's happ- Oh." Thorin heaved a great sigh. "Fíli, how many times do you have to be told? No climbing, boy! You’ll fall and break your neck!"

Dwalin peeked around Thorin's shoulder and had to repress a laugh, for Fíli had somehow climbed to the top of a tall wardrobe and sat there proudly, snickering. Thorin stomped over and started the arduous task of extricating Fíli from his perch. Fíli could sense trouble and scooted back from the edge of the wardrobe, away from Thorin's hands. 

There was a tug at Dwalin's trousers. The dwarf looked down to see little Kíli looking up at him with great, dark eyes. 

"What?"

"I want up too," the toddler said, reaching for Dwalin with his chubby little arms. "Up!" He chirped, stamping his bare foot.

Sighing, Dwalin picked up the boy and held him securely in one arm. Kíli gifted him with a very charming smile and cuddled up to him, playing with his beard.

"Spoiled brat," Dwalin muttered. Kíli giggled deviously. 

Meanwhile, Thorin had pulled Fíli down from the wardrobe and was giving him a few firm swats on the behind.

"No. More. Climbing. I mean it, boy," Thorin snapped. Dwalin could tell that Thorin was not hitting very hard (the hiding was meant to scare rather than actually hurt), but Fíli wailed and tried to squirm away.

"I hate you!" The boy squealed.

"Of course you do," Thorin said, rolling his eyes. "Now, back to your nap. _Now_ , Fíli." Fíli sniffled indignantly and obeyed, climbing into bed and hiding under the blankets. Thorin sighed and turned to shoot a long-suffering look at Dwalin, but the sight of the now drowsing Kíli curled up in Dwalin's arms made him grin.

"Old friend, you seem to have attracted a large parasite."

"So I have," Dwalin said. "You have a bit of an infestation here, Thorin." 

"I'm not a pare-sike!" Kíli huffed sleepily. "You're a pare-sike."

"More barnacle than boy," Thorin said, carefully untangling Kíli's fingers from Dwalin's coat and bundling him into bed next to Fíli. Fíli came up from under the covers just long enough to latch onto his little brother and then disappeared into the blankets again, pulling Kíli with him. Dwalin was struck with a sudden, long-buried memory of hiding under the covers with Balin when they too were just pups. He smiled slightly and secretly.

Miraculously the boys stayed in bed and Thorin and Dwalin found the time to sit down in Dís’s meticulously decorated sitting room. They enjoyed a pipe and a pint, discussing Dwalin's work in the outlying settlements while Dís’s fat little terriers snored on the rug between them. 

"You know," Dwalin said after a while "I'm surprised your sister even allows me into her foyer. I did torment her when we were all little badgers."

"You were awful," Thorin agrees. "She defended herself well though. How many times did she break your nose? Twice?"

"Only once," Dwalin said, tapping his nose, scarred and crooked from many battles. "She gave me plenty of bloody noses, though. Knocked out one of my milk teeth, too."

"I'm sorry to say it, friend, but you probably deserved it."

Dwalin roared with laughter. "Aye, I was a hellraiser. Not unlike your wee nephews, eh Thorin?"

Thorin groaned into his pint. "They're good boys, but they lack discipline. Dís spoils them a bit, but after everything our people have been through... At least the young ones are smiling."

"Smitten. Bamboozled by little puppy eyes, you are." Dwalin accused teasingly.

"They're my heirs," Thorin said thoughtfully. "I have no desire for marriage or children of my own, so they are my legacy." He shrugged.

"They'll wise up once they get into training. You might want to keep an eye on that Kíli, though. Cheeky little ferret."

"You know I caught him kissing the baker's little daughter not three days ago?"

Dwalin snorted. “Starting a bit early, is he?”

“You should have seen her father. He was furious. I thought I was going to have to draw up a betrothal contract just to keep him from throwing the boy down the well. As it is, I owe him a new set of bread pans.”  
“Ach, he’s a hard bargainer, that one.”

“More like a skinflint,” Thorin said before draining his pint. They sat in silence for a bit, watching the fire and the snuffling terriers. Eventually Thorin retrieved the boys from their room and sat them in front of the fire; Fíli with a well-loved reading primer and Kíli with a variety of carved soapstone toys. Kíli held up one of the larger figures for Dwalin to see. It was a simple, sturdily made thing, a dragon with a snarling face and folded wings, but Dwalin recognized his own brother Balin’s careful chisel-marks in the wicked spikes of the tail. Apparently Dís wasn’t the only one spoiling the young heirs.

“This,” the boy said with great aplomb, “Is my daggon. And this,” here he held up the small figure of a dwarf warrior wearing a crown “Is Durin. They fight.”

“Very interesting,” Dwalin said, raising an eyebrow at Thorin, who studiously ignored him. 

Dwalin had not been planning on spending his evening listening to Thorin help Fíli sound out words in Khuzdul and Common, or watching the elaborate and dramatic battle of Tiny Stone Durin versus the Daggon Smog. Still, he thought, it wasn’t the worst way to wile away a few hours. Some years down the road, when he was teaching Fíli to block a blow from an axe and Kíli how to skewer an orc throat on an arrow, he thought privately that he wouldn’t trade the memory for any amount of gold.


End file.
